


on the line

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, established group sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-18 07:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Orgies have lost their appeal.





	on the line

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (train ride).

Orgies have certainly lost their appeal, Kitayama thinks as he lays boneless after their latest romp. It’s not that he’s opposed to having sex with his bandmates—they’re familiar and eager and for the most part they give him what he wants—it’s just that having them all at once gets tiring. This was much easier when they were younger and more carefree, before the control issues set in (particularly Nikaido).

Or it could be because he’s just too lazy to multi-task anymore. It’s not like he’s turning monogamous. Nobody can tie down Kitayama Hiromitsu—unless, of course, it’s in the literal sense. He just doesn’t want to have to worry about sucking off Tamamori while Fujigaya’s balls-deep inside him and Senga’s bouncing on his lap. Having Senga bounce on his lap is really enough, especially now that he’s grown and knows exactly what he’s doing with his hips.

Thinking about Senga leads to looking at him, over where he’s leaning back against Nikaido as he catches his breath and makes no move to get dressed. Senga has turned into a fine adult, both physically and mentally as Kitayama takes into account the sculptured muscles of Senga’s body and how Senga is more responsible than Kitayama himself. (Though he was probably more responsible than Kitayama at sixteen, but that’s besides the point.)

“See something you want, Mitsu?” Nikaido pops Kitayama’s thought bubble, a malicious smirk on his face as he catches Kitayama staring. “I didn’t think someone your age could go again so soon.”

It’s Fujigaya who snorts in laughter, but he’s close enough for Kitayama to kick. “Just appreciating the sight of our youngest all grown up,” is all he says, not giving Nikaido the courtesy of acknowledging his insult.

Senga preens at that, locking eyes with Kitayama and offering a small smile. “Glad to please you, Leader.”

Kitayama’s eyebrows rise along with his arms, which stretch over his head as he gathers enough energy to sit up and look for his clothes. He doesn’t quite get there, but Yokoo’s already on his feet distributing washcloths, and it’s only a matter of time before Kitayama’s pants smack him in the face. Reluctantly he puts them on, regretting how he’d badgered Yokoo to host a group gathering at _his_ place for once as he curses the necessity of clothes at all.

Besides, he’ll just be stripping it off the minute he walks in the door. Regardless of whether he goes home alone or not, he inwardly adds as he eyes Senga while everyone else comes back to life. Naturally Fujigaya’s the first one to leave, pretending that he has better things to do than lay around and cuddle with them, and Yokoo goes straight to the shower. Tamamori’s already asleep, curled around Miyata who’s unsuccessfully trying to dress them both, and normally Nikaido would be attached to Senga somehow, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Nika?” Kitayama asks lazily as he rolls onto his stomach to pull down the back of his shirt.

A rather girlish shriek sounds from the bathroom, and Senga laughs. “There’s your answer.”

Miyata’s giving them both a knowing look, but keeps his comments to himself as Tamamori whines about being cold and Miyata gently tells him he wouldn’t be if he’d let Miyata put his clothes on. Senga’s completely dressed, looking more awake than the rest of them combined, and Kitayama wonders if he would even be able to keep up with that one’s impossible energy.

It’s a chance he’s willing to take. “Want to stay over at my place tonight?” he asks, trying to sound casual, though he’s not sure why since they _just did_ exactly what he’s inviting Senga over to do.

“Sure,” Senga replies nonchalantly. “Just let me text my mom so she doesn’t worry.”

Kitayama nods, figuring it will take him that long to get up, but surprisingly he’s on his feet in no time. Maybe Senga’s surplus of energy is contagious. Miyata agrees to pass along their goodbyes to the host and his shower bomber before they leave, walking to the train station in comfortable silence with their hands stuffed in their pockets.

Senga bumps his shoulder as they wait, looking sheepish when Kitayama glances over. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Kitayama replies, though he already knows.

“You know,” Senga says, bumping his shoulder again, and this time Kitayama bumps back.

“I do,” Kitayama admits, “but I still want to hear you say it.”

“Thanks for picking me.”

The awkward aftermath is avoided by the train’s arrival, and Senga looks as relieved as Kitayama feels as they find seats in the back. It’s not that late, but late enough for the cars to be fairly empty, enough for Kitayama to feel confident that nobody will snap a picture and sell it to the highest payer if he lays his head on Senga’s shoulder.

Senga’s arm is instantly around him and Kitayama nuzzles into the embrace, feeling warm despite the crisp autumn night. A pleased hum presses into his hair and Kitayama shivers, leading Senga to squeeze him tighter. They’re barely touching and all of their clothes are on, but somehow this feels more intimate than just a little while ago when Kitayama was inside him.

“We’re almost there, Leader,” Senga whispers, the nickname giving Kitayama another chill. “Just a couple more stops.”

“I’m not the leader if you’re the one taking care of me,” Kitayama points out.

A finger lifts up his chin, where Senga’s eyes are soft and stern at the same time. “You’ll always be my leader, no matter what.”

Kitayama blinks and feels something in his heart that he doesn’t quite understand. All he knows is that he wants to be close to Senga right now, though he’s torn between returning his head to Senga’s shoulder and kissing him right on the mouth. Since they’re in public, he goes with the former and snuggles a little closer than he should, closing his eyes to give the appearance that he’d just fallen asleep. Given that it’s _him_ , nobody would question this.

“I’ve always looked up to you, you know,” Senga says, then chuckles in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent of his teenage giggle. “Metaphorically, anyway.”

Kitayama doesn’t punch him that hard, though his wrist is encased in Senga’s hand that seems so much bigger than his. Their fingers lace together and that feeling is back, stronger than before and while Kitayama has a pretty good idea what it is, he’s not ready to face that truth yet. Only drama characters fall in love on a train.

“I’m not that great of a role model,” he says instead, and this time Senga is punching him with the hand that’s draped over his shoulder. “What? I’m not. Somedays my biggest accomplishment is getting out of bed.”

“Since when are you humble?” Senga asks, and it’s Kitayama’s turn to laugh. “You taught us all how to skate even when we showed no hope. You graduated from university while working with us full-time. Putting up with Taipi so much deserves a medal in its own. Do I need to keep going?”

“Yes,” Kitayama tells him. “Next you should address how good-looking I am.”

“Ah, there’s my Kitamitsu,” Senga says, sounding relieved, and Kitayama uses his free hand to poke him in the side. “Clearly I don’t need to tell you this, but somehow you’re cute and hot at the same time and your voice is so, so sexy and you’re such an _amazing_ kisser—”

“The best in the group?” Kitayama interrupts.

“Yes,” Senga answers, leaning down to speak into Kitayama’s ear. “I could kiss you all day. I could do other things with you all day, too. Haven’t you noticed that I always end up with you when we all get together? I love how you feel inside me, the way you touch me, the noises you make—”

“Keep going and you’ll turn me into a train groper,” Kitayama hisses, squirming a little.

“Next stop,” Senga tells him in a promising tone, and Kitayama has never wanted to get off a train so much in his life. Somehow this is much different than when they were together before, and not just because it’s just the two of them. It _feels_ different.

But by the time they make it back to Kitayama’s apartment, the urge is gone. The minute they walk in the door, Senga pulls him back into his arms like the distance from the station to Kitayama’s place was entirely too long to be apart, and Kitayama clings to him, squeezing him tight as they just stand there hugging. Even after all of that physical exertion, Senga smells nice and Kitayama presses closer to feel more, his hand sliding under Senga’s shirt to touch his skin.

Senga’s nose rubs against his cheek and Kitayama lifts his head, only to feel a brush of lips against his and he never knew a kiss could be so intense before now. It’s slow and light and _hot_ , making Kitayama’s head spin as he kisses back with absolutely no rush. His hands roam Senga’s back, taking the time to feel the muscles working under his fingertips and learn what areas are sensitive.

Senga groans when Kitayama’s fingers trail along the small of his back, the deep noise going straight into Kitayama’s pants. “Take me to bed, Leader,” Senga whispers against his lips, and Kitayama doesn’t hesitate to follow directions. He starts to pull off his shirt on the way down the hall, but Senga halts him and does it himself as they tumble onto the mattress.

Kitayama repeats the action on Senga and turns his attention to Senga’s chest, finding more spots that make Senga jerk beneath him as he returns to Senga’s mouth. Their kissing is a little more heated now, likely fueled from their slow grinding, though neither is making any move to progress. Senga’s hands are hot on Kitayama’s back, squeezing his shoulder blades every time he does something to make Senga feel good, and Kitayama revels in the way Senga’s exhales are short and harsh against his cheek.

“I like it better when it’s just us,” Senga whispers against Kitayama’s lips, and Kitayama gets that twist in his heart again. “I guess I’m selfish and want you all to myself.”

“If you’re selfish, so am I,” Kitayama replies, gaping when Senga rocks up against him with a faint moan. “Tell me what I just did so I can do it again.”

“You…” Senga trails off, tossing his head back and arching as Kitayama latches his mouth onto Senga’s stretched neck. “You’re making me feel special, like you like me more than the others.”

“I do,” Kitayama says, realizing it as he says it, and he’s pulled back into Senga’s mouth by a force that’s not from either of them. Kitayama’s hands drift up Senga’s sides and Senga shudders beneath him, gasping into their kiss and Kitayama feels like he can’t breathe, everything too much and not enough at the same time as he tries to touch Senga everywhere at once.

It’s Senga who reaches for their belts, first Kitayama’s and then his own, and the depth of Kitayama’s moan surprises himself when fingers wrap around his cock. The urge quickly returns, but it’s not as simple as before, clouded with feelings and desires he can’t pinpoint except that they all have to do with Senga. He doesn’t just want to fuck; he wants to fuck _Senga_.

“Mitsu, I want you,” Senga says, like he’s reading Kitayama’s mind, or maybe he just feels the same way. The possibility has Kitayama’s heart soaring, and he no longer tries to lie to himself about what it is as he reaches into his drawer for a condom and lube. They both kick off their pants and shove down their boxers, leaving them skin to skin and Kitayama pulls back to stare at Senga incredulously as the latter lifts his knees beneath him.

“You want to do it like this?” he asks, his hands already rubbing the backs of Senga’s thighs that twitch under his touch. “Are you still sore from earlier?”

“A little,” Senga admits, hissing as Kitayama’s fingers slip between his legs. “I’ll be okay, though. Once you’re inside me, it’ll be too good to hurt.”

His words have Kitayama wanting to believe him, but then concern steps in. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Kitayama says gently, leaning in to kiss the pout off Senga’s face. “In the morning, okay? I’m clingy when I first wake up, anyway.”

“I know,” Senga says, offering a short laugh as he lowers his legs with only a bit of visible discomfort. “Will you let me go down on you?”

Kitayama assesses Senga’s throat with his dry hand. “You had Miyata tonight, right? He always makes my jaw hurt.”

“I don’t care—” Senga starts.

“Kento,” Kitayama cuts him off, and Senga looks pleased at being addressed by his first name. “I want to do something different than what we do with them. Because that kind of sex means nothing to me anymore.”

Senga stares at him for a long time, and Kitayama can almost see the question on the tip of his tongue— _This means something to you?_ —but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he rolls them over, straddles Kitayama’s thighs and rocks his hips the way only he can, taking both of their cocks in his hand and squeezing them together. Instantly Kitayama’s arousal pushes its way past his concern and his moan feels like it’s being pulled from his throat, his body arching to thrust into the friction on its own.

“How’s this?” Senga asks, gasping for air as he presses their lips together again. “We might have done this before, I don’t remember, but usually it’s more—”

“This is good,” Kitayama hisses, bringing his lubed hand up to help. “This is perfect.”

“Mitsu,” Senga breathes, and Kitayama kisses him harder as they both push into their hands, erections rubbing alongside each other with each stroke. Senga’s snapping his hips like he’s fucking and something deep inside Kitayama throbs for it, his mind jumping right to the possibility of Senga moving inside him like this.

“In the morning,” Kitayama says, interrupted by another moan as Senga rubs the heads of their cocks together, “I want you to do it to me.”

“ _Mitsu_ ,” Senga says again, this one more frantic as his body starts to shake on top of Kitayama. “I’m gonna come.”

“Fuck, me too,” Kitayama gets out, moving his hand as fast as he can to pull them both off. Senga’s first, twitching against him with a loud groan, which sets off Kitayama. Orgasm hits him so hard that he doesn’t know anything except Senga’s weight on top of him, reality slowly returning as Senga rolls just enough to avoid the mess on Kitayama’s chest and presses breathy kisses to his neck.

“Let’s take a bath,” Senga suggests, more awake and energetic than anyone should be after coming that hard, and Kitayama isn’t that bothered by his small stature anymore when Senga just scoops him up and drags him into the bathroom.

They soak in the tub for entirely too long, kissing and relaxing in the warm water until it turns cool, and Kitayama’s out the minute his head hits the pillow. The next thing he knows, sunlight is barely shining through his blinds and there’s a hot mouth around his cock, waking him up in the best way possible. He’s not even fully coherent when he pulls Senga off of him and urges Senga’s fingers between his legs.

It’s just as good as he expected, if not better, with Senga’s talented hips and the way he clutches onto Kitayama like he’s going to disappear if he lets go. Senga strokes Kitayama in time with his efforts, but it’s too slow to get him off, and Senga makes it until Kitayama’s whining and twisting beneath him before pulling out and jumping on him.

“Kento, wait—” Kitayama starts, but Senga’s already lubed and ready and the thought of him doing it himself while Kitayama was sleeping has Kitayama thrusting up harder than he means to. Senga just groans in approval, bouncing up and down on Kitayama’s lap with Kitayama’s hands firmly planted on his hips like he’d done last night, but that’s the only similarity. Everything is just so much _more_ , and wholly focused on Senga.

Kitayama plants his feet on the bed to change the angle, sending Senga falling forward and right into his mouth, where he swallows Senga’s gasps and pleas as he reaches between them to take Senga in his hand. Senga gets tighter than usual and Kitayama thrusts up harder, unable to keep from following after Senga moans out his full first name and spills over his fingers.

They fall still, breathless and barely awake in Kitayama’s case, and Kitayama naturally gravitates toward Senga’s warm body.

“Do you think anyone will miss us if we stop playing with them?” Senga asks quietly.

Kitayama scoffs. “Taisuke will probably throw a party.”

“Because I only want to be with you,” Senga goes on, leaning up to meet Kitayama’s eyes.

As he pulls Senga down for a kiss, saying all of the words he can’t yet speak, Kitayama thinks those dramas might be onto something after all, because he really did fall in love on the train.


End file.
